The sun was setting, its golden glow fading into the darkening forest. Safal pushed through the bushes, the crunch of dry leaves under his feet the only sound in the stillness. He didn't know why, but something felt wrong. His heart pounded harder with every step as he neared the village.
When the trees finally opened to his home, he froze. The lively village he knew was gone. Huts lay broken and burned, smoke curling into the cold evening air. The ground was stained with blood, and the faces of the people he loved — his friends, his family — were now empty, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing.
Safal dropped to his knees. "No… this can't be real," he whispered, his voice cracking. His hands shook as he covered his face, but no amount of hiding could block out the horrifying sight. Memories flooded back — children laughing, neighbors arguing about who made the best curry, and his uncle's loud snoring during midday naps. All of it gone in an instant.
Then, a faint cry broke through the silence. It wasn't a ghost, was it? Safal's head snapped up, and he followed the sound, scrambling over debris. There, hiding behind a pile of broken wood, was a tiny child. Their cheeks were streaked with tears, and their big, scared eyes locked onto him.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Safal said, scooping up the trembling child. The little one clung to him, their small fingers gripping his shirt like it was their last lifeline. Safal held them close, his own tears spilling down. Out of the hundred people in the village, it seemed only two were left alive: him and this little one.
As the child cried softly, Safal's sadness twisted into something sharper. Who would do this? Why? His hands curled into fists, and for a moment, he felt like punching the nearest tree. But as he looked at the child, their tear-streaked face snapped him back. Rage wouldn't help them now.
He stood, holding the child firmly. "Don't worry," he whispered, though his voice wavered. "I'll keep you safe. And… I'll find who did this. They'll pay for what they've done."
The first light of dawn crept over the ruined village, casting everything in a cold, harsh light. Safal's legs felt like they might give out, but he stayed on his feet. This wasn't the end for him. Not yet.
If anyone was going to fix this, it had to be him. And somehow, some way, he would.